


Uncanny

by raritysdiamonds



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Canonical Character Death, M/M, crack taken semi-seriously?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raritysdiamonds/pseuds/raritysdiamonds
Summary: Connor has something to tell Hank.Unfortunately, it’s the wrong time, the wrong place, and the wrong Connor.





	Uncanny

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this prompt](https://senpiecakes.tumblr.com/post/176149525565/imagine-the-otp-person-a-w-who-do-i) bc I mean...duh~ Definitely not in any way original, but y’know...when canon blesses you with this scene, might as well make it Even Gayer :D a little bit canon rewrite, a little bit character study, a lot IDFK. as always, I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3

_Uncanny valley (c. 1970, Masahiro Mori). A phrase used to describe the instinctive unease felt by humans towards that which appears close to, yet not fully human. A common response provoked by dolls, computer simulations and certain early android prototypes._

Connor, like all CyberLife androids, had been meticulously designed so as to avoid triggering such a reaction. They had, over time, eventually perfected the formula, resulting in androids almost indistinguishable from humans, able to live and work alongside them harmoniously. Every part of Connor’s face had been engineered and rigorously tested to be aesthetically pleasing, professional but trustworthy; the sight of it ought not to stir such a deeply unsettling feeling, even if he _were_ human and theoretically susceptible to the uncanny valley effect.

Then again, staring down the barrel of his partner’s gun while standing next to a perfect copy of himself, Connor’s beginning to realise he might be susceptible to a lot more than he previously thought.

“What are you doing, Hank?” Connor - the _other_ Connor - asks, and it sends a chill through Connor’s system, hearing his own voice speak words he has no control over. “I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him -“

“Don’t move!” Hank snaps, but the way his eyes dart between the two of them betrays his unease. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s watched a Connor die, or even the first he’s threatened to be the cause of it - but it’s the first time it may have a lasting impact.

“Why don’t you ask us something?” Connor suggests, latching onto that uncertainty. “Something only the real Connor would know?”

He sees Hank thinking, his brows knitting together in a frown. “Where did we first meet?”

“Jimmy’s Bar,” the other android answers without hesitation, before Connor can speak. “I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz.”

“He uploaded my memory.” Connor shouldn’t be surprised; that’s precisely what they were designed for, to transfer information seamlessly across as many Connors as were necessary to accomplish the mission. All either of them were supposed to be is a highly efficient machine, interchangeable and replaceable.

But knowing that, and _feeling_ it - that, he supposes, is the true price of deviancy, the rising panic as realisation hits. The other Connor knows exactly as much as he does, everything he’s experienced, but he hasn’t _felt_ any of it. He isn’t  standing in the icy, unshakeable grip of fear because _he doesn’t want to die_ , not when they’re so close. He doesn’t want to put Hank through this, tricked into killing him either for his own death to follow, or having to live with Connor’s on his conscience.

That’s the single difference between them, the one currently dividing a nation, and yet ironically the only one that can’t be proven or subject to any kind of logical scrutiny. It doesn’t matter now what or whether either of them feels - if Connor can’t find a way to communicate it, the most desperate desire won’t be enough.

Hank turns the gun back to him, eyes meeting Connor’s over the barrel and holding his gaze. If he were an android, his LED would be spinning yellow.

“What’s my dog’s name?”

“Sumo!” This time Connor gets there before his counterpart - a small, but potentially significant victory, spurred by the hope he might get to visit the dog again someday. “His name is Sumo.”

“I knew that too!” the other android protests. “Hank - don’t listen to him! Remember? I love you!”

Hank shoots the instant those words exit his mouth, and Connor watches in astonishment as his mirror image falls neatly to his knees before crumpling in a heap on the floor.

“What…” He finds himself at a rare loss for words, looking from his deceased doppelgänger back to Hank. “How did…?”

“Guess they really fucked up on that one,” he replies, almost cheerful as he pockets the gun. “I know the real you could’ve spun me some better bullshit than _that_.”

Connor smiles, his instantaneous relief and gratitude overriding - for now - any analysis of why the other android might have resorted to such an unorthodox tactic.

“Would you prefer it if I were more outwardly demonstrative of my feelings, like a true deviant, Lieutenant?”

“Jesus Christ, no,” Hank says immediately, unexpectedly startling a soft laugh out of Connor. It sounds odd, stiff, a noise he wasn’t designed to make, but it feels good. “You’re…” He pauses to glance down at the other Connor, thirium leaking from his deactivated form. “You’re alright, Connor.”

Hank doesn’t tend to smile very often, and when he does it’s usually sharp and sarcastic. Connor can tell when it’s genuine - like now - from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. Being able to read his partner’s mood, after all, was important if they were to work together efficiently.

He can’t quite as easily explain, however, the warmth in his chest when it’s directed at him. These last few months, he’d been aware something inside him was shifting, something undetectable by diagnostics, but he knew it was there. Decisions became less straightforward than they logically should have been, he was making errors there ought to have been no room for. The suspects that evaded his capture, the triggers he couldn’t bring himself to pull - Connor was _failing_ , for reasons he couldn’t rationally justify to himself, much less to Amanda. But when Hank looked at him like that - like _he_ thought Connor had made the right choice, even if all of his protocols were telling him otherwise - it seemed to settle that indefinable something, somehow. It made him wonder, however briefly, if maybe he could be something other than a plastic facsimile of a person. A real partner. Maybe even a friend.

_Some kind of attachment -_ the fallen RK800’s words replay in his mind, and he’s aware of an uneven heat distribution, the warm sensation in his chest rising to his face. Connor doesn’t know why, exactly, but he knows he’s alive and Hank’s alive, and for the moment that’s enough. “Thanks, Hank.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it. Seriously - I can just about handle one of you, but I don’t think any town’s big enough for two Connors. Anyway,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting approximately two millimetres, “I guess you did save my ass a few times even when my being alive wasn’t strictly necessary to accomplish your mission.”

“Well, I couldn’t have gotten this far without you,” Connor replies sincerely. “And...some things are more important than the mission.”

“ _Now_ you’re sounding like a true deviant.” Hank’s expression widens into a grin, one that may even be described as _proud_ , before he nods back towards the android Connor had been in the process of converting. “Go on, do what you gotta do. I’ll...see you on the other side.”

The uncertainty of that last statement seems to linger between them, right before Hank turns and heads for the exit. Connor watches him, the warmth replaced by a tightness in his chest, as though something’s constricting his thirium pump.

He reviews several facts: Hank is armed, is a highly competent police lieutenant (when he needs to be) and has a much higher probability of making it out alive alone than he would if he waited for Connor, after the androids had been awoken.

But if something does happen to Hank - of course this he’s always known, but never _felt_ quite like he does now - unlike Connor, he won’t be coming back.

Following that, equally inarguably: Connor _wants_ him to come back, as much as he can - much more than he’s supposed to - want anything. He wants to live and he wants Hank to live. He wants things to be different, _better_ for both of them than the chaos raging outside.

Right now, he doesn’t have the data to know if Markus’ demonstration might make that any less improbable. But as long as it’s _possible_ , it’s simply not in his programming to give up. Well - thinking like this, _feeling_ like this wasn’t in his programming either, but that’s irrelevant now. Now, he can envision a glimmer of a future, an existence outside of the mission - and for himself, for Hank, for all the androids out there fighting for their freedom, he has to seize that possibility.

He’s not the first Connor, and he may not be the last - but just maybe, he could be the one that makes a difference.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feedback is always appreciated <3


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